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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28756584">A Suspect Of Fowl Play</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoofyGoldenGirl/pseuds/GoofyGoldenGirl'>GoofyGoldenGirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Costume Parties &amp; Masquerades, Gen, Heist, Investigations, Jealous Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Mystery, Robbery, Superheroes, art gallery, gala - Freeform, minor shipping moments</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:26:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28756584</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoofyGoldenGirl/pseuds/GoofyGoldenGirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>An infamous globetrotting thief has targeted a painting at a Parisian art gallery. The owner enlists the help of Ladybug and Chat Noir, but despite their best efforts, the painting is stolen. Suspects are everywhere, tension is running high, and time is ticking as the fallout from the robbery threatens to spiral into disaster. Will Ladybug and Chat Noir be able to find out WHO the thief might be? WHAT the motive might be? WHERE he came from, WHEN he struck, WHY he did it, and HOW he will escape, if he escapes at ALL? Come and find out in:</em>
</p>
<p><strong>A Suspect Of Fowl Play </strong> </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Art Gallery: Six Hours Before The Heist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><h4>The Cast Of Characters</h4>
<p><strong>Ladybug And Chat Noir</strong>: A pair of plucky Parisian superheroes. May or may not be secretly in love with each other. The two are honored guests and volunteer security for The MADAME CURATOR’S charity gala. They are in possession of the LADYBUG and CHAT NOIR MIRACULOUSES that grant them their POWERS. </p>
<p><strong>The Madame Curator:</strong> The owner of a private art gallery in Paris and our unfortunate VICTIM. She has received a threatening note from THE MAGPIE who has his EYE on the painting THE CROWN PRINCE AND ALL HIS SPOILS that she plans on displaying at her CHARITY GALA. Said painting is a source of PRIDE and JOY for THE MADAME CURATOR and she will do ANYTHING to keep it safe. Like any elegant woman, she carries A PURSE. </p>
<p><strong>The Assistant:</strong> A CHARMING, MYSTERIOUS, and DASTARDLY HANDSOME man who works for the MADAME CURATOR. He is rather fond of his POCKETWATCH.</p>
<p><strong>The Magpie:</strong> Our VILLAIN in this tale. An infamous globe- trotting thief WHO happens to be in Paris. From WHAT we know, he plans on swooping into the charity gala WHERE the prized painting lies in plain sight. WHEN he carries out his heinous crime, the entire gala is sent into a panic, and everyone appears to have a motive. The Magpie could be anyone, WHY it may even be someone on this list, but the true question is HOW does he escape if he escapes at ALL?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The click-clack of the Madame Curator’s Louboutins echoed off the marble tiles. The added height of her heels, frantic swing of her purse side to side, imposing posture with perfectly rounded shoulders, and an intimidating gaze that bordered on murderous sent the staff in her way scrambling. Behind her, Ladybug and Chat Noir struggled to keep up. A swerve to the side, duck there, even a jump or so as employees, artwork, and decorations flew at them. The Madame Curator, undeterred, strode on until the final exhibit loomed in front of them. It was then that her heels gave one last tap and she spun about with perfect precision to face Ladybug and Chat Noir.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s so much to do and I’m already running out of time, but I’m glad you two could come on such short notice,” she said in a posh tone that suggested that its mannerisms of speaking did not come naturally to her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not a problem at all,” Ladybug said through a painful grin as she propped herself against the wall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever it is, I’m sure we can help,” Chat Noir’s last word came out on a shaky breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh thank you! <em>Thank you</em>! You two are such <em>dears</em>!” The Madame Curator placed a hand over her heart.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A plaque with the inscription <em>Birds of a Feather</em> marked the entrance. The Madame Curator turned around, reached into her purse and presented them with a piece of paper.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The reason why I’ve called you here is because---this morning, I found <em>this</em> in the gallery mailbox.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holding back tears, The Madame thrust the paper at Ladybug. Chat Noir looked on as Ladybug unfolded the paper and smoothed out the creases.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What I COVET are your RICHES. In my TALONS they will LIE at SUNSET’s last LIGHT and as you MOURN on SWIFT WINGS I shall FLY. Signed. THE MAGPIE,” Ladybug read.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The letter was written in a neat, impeccable cursive handwriting. The signature was composed of a combination of newspaper letter cutouts. A crinkled magpie feather was attached next to it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The <em>Magpie</em>? The thief’s who’s bypassed every type of security system and robbed <em>millions</em> from the most famous banks, museums, and jewelry stores around the world, and never been caught Magpie?” Chat Noir asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I always feared the day would come when that rogue would set his sights on the art world. I just didn’t think it’d be <em>my</em> humble gallery,” The Madame Curator sniffed. She rummaged through her purse and pulled out a lacy handkerchief. She stifled a cry as she went to dab her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And if he’s planning on making a move tonight, that means he’ll be at the gala you’re hosting tonight!” Ladybug pointed out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That <em>we’re</em> also attending as guests of honor,” Chat Noir placed a hand around Ladybug’s shoulder with a wink.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ladybug sternly glanced up at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As <em>guests</em>. Nothing more,” She reminded him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chat Noir quickly removed his arm and stepped aside.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Does anyone else know about this?” He asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No,” The Madame Curator glanced up. Two smoky circles of mascara and eyeliner had formed underneath her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But what about the police?” Ladybug asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh they won’t be able to help,” The Madame Curator brushed the suggestion off with a wave of her handkerchief.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You sure?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about what happened with the last heist he did? The police <em>tried</em> to catch him, but he had a <em>trick</em> up his sleeve!” The Madame made a jabbing motion with her handkerchief. “He got away with the diamond he came for—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The handkerchief swung, nearly whipping Chat Noir in the face. He scurried behind Ladybug.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The decoy set out—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ladybug jumped back with a yelp. She knocked against Chat Noir who grabbed her by the arms. The two of them ducked as lace came flying their way. Forward, back. Forward, back, as the Madame’s voice rose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And hit up a bank before making his getaway in a Lamborghini on <em>live television</em>! And what were the police doing all this time as he got away Scott free? Running about and squabbling like <em>chickens</em> with <em>no head</em>!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Madame angrily stuffed the handkerchief back into her purse. She cleared her throat and raised her pointer finger.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Being careful is not <em>enough</em>! I need someone who knows how to deal with the <em>unpredictable</em> and <em>you two</em> with your expertise in taking down akumas are <em>precisely</em> what I’m looking for.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chat Noir peeked out from behind Ladybug. He cautiously took a step forward.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well…I’ll take that as a compliment,” He started. “But Ladybug’s right, it might be good to send the letter to forensics in case they—wait, could you track The Magpie with Lucky Charm?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can only use Lucky Charm when I’m out of options and backed up into a corner. There are so many possibilities about how this situation will end up that if I use it now it won’t work,” Ladybug glanced down to see that she still held the letter in her hand. She handed it back to the curator.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So we know when to expect him, but what are these “riches” that he plans on stealing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Madame Curator’s hands shook as they tightly wrung together. A bead of sweat formed on her forehead and loosened a strand of thin black hair from the perfectly sculpted bun on her head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come with me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was tempting for Ladybug and Chat Noir to stop and admire the works of art. A collage of feathers formed two humanoid bodies against a white backdrop. Thick paint shone on ruby and brown colored tiles to create the image of the Ancient Greek goddess Athena and a sage owl perched on her shoulder. Snapshots in black and white captured the flight of a dove and the flower that fell from its beak on a patch of grass. A statue of a ballerina was in the middle of a transformation, with the pointe of her ballet shoes already webbed. They reached the end of the exhibit, where a velvet curtain hung over a medium sized canvas.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t tell many people this, but I fancy myself as an artist in my spare time. You are among the first spectators to lay eyes on my greatest creation and absolute labor of love. I present to you, <em>The Crown Prince And All His Spoils</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Madame Curator pulled back the curtain. Ladybug let out a gasp. Chat Noir’s eyes widened in wonder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Warm shades of yellow, bronze, and white illuminated the piles of gold and silver that surrounded the throne in the center of the canvas. There, on top of the motif of magpies etched onto the seat, slouched a young boy; legs crossed, with one foot dangling off the edge of the throne. His hands gripped a kingly scepter, brandishing it as if he were deflecting an enemy blow. The boy’s gaze was directed at the viewer, whimsical and full of mirth as the crown of black, white, and blue feathers on top of his head threatened to tilt and fall. His lips were parted, cheeks dimpled to suggest that an oncoming bout of laughter or an excited shout. The light softened his features, radiating an innocence more precious than the riches around him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ladybug’s hands gripped the pinch of fabric that flared out by where her yo-yo lay. Her stance shifted out and knees bent. Just as she began to sink into the curtsey, she shot back up, embarrassed. Her slip went unnoticed. Chat Noir’s enthralled gaze darted back and forth from the painting to the hand that was clenched over his heart. A quiet, adoring smile loosened the tenseness in The Madame Curator’s expression. The sound of her heel hitting the floor hardly registered as she drew in closer to the painting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow! It’s <em>beautiful</em>!” Ladybug exclaimed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Isn’t it</em>?” The Madame Curator’s finger curled and stroked against the canvas. Worry flitted in her eyes again. She closed the curtain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh! Yes it’s amazing!” Chat Noir blurted once he realized that he was being asked for his opinion. He sheepishly glanced to the side. Ladybug stifled a bemused sound and faced the curator.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Madame, I <em>promise</em> you that we will do everything we can to make sure that this painting stays safe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A high-pitched cry of relief hit the air. The Madame cupped her mouth with both hands. She rocked back and forth as tears of joy streamed down her cheeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You two are the most <em>noble</em> people I have ever met!” She gushed. “I feared that no one would heed the call of a lowly art keeper but you have convinced me that there is still <em>good</em> in the world! My art will not fall <em>prey</em> to a collection of stolen relics posted on instagram! There is <em>hope</em>!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The second cry made Ladybug and Chat Noir jump. The Madame started to fan herself and placed the other hand on top of her forehead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Oh</em>! I appear to have exerted myself<em>! </em><strong>Oh</strong><em>!</em> My <em>nerves</em>! My <em>knees</em>!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her legs buckled. She cried out again and Ladybug and Chat Noir rushed forward.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A delicate hand shot out and wrapped around the Madame Curator’s waist. Ladybug and Chat Noir froze in their tracks as they watched the other hand steady her arm. In a swift movement, The Madame was gently pulled back into a seated position onto the man’s bended knee. She leaned back with a startled gaze.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You shouldn’t be running around in heels darling,” the man said in a suave voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chat Noir let out a confused sound, matched with an equally confused gaze set at the two of them. Ladybug however, only had her eyes on the stranger. They followed his how effortlessly he pulled up the Madame to her feet, lingered over the tightness of his shirt and trousers that accentuated his slim physique, then settling on to the concern that sparkled in his eyes as he looked the Madame over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you alright?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh I am <em>perfectly </em>fine now,” the Madame beamed up at him. Even with her heels, the top of her head just barely reached his shoulders.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was then that the Madame spun around. She held onto the man’s arm as she addressed Ladybug and Chat Noir.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is my <em>brilliant</em> assistant,” she gave his arm a pat. “He has been an <em>incredible</em> help in this gallery, and I owe him almost all the credit in how successful we’ve been these past couple of months.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh don’t say that, <em>you’re</em> the one running the show, not me,” The Assistant teased.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Madame burst into giggles. Ladybug joined in, with a hand covering her mouth to hide how her smile stretched from cheek to cheek. Chat Noir’s confused gaze slowly turned into a pout as he glanced over from Ladybug to the Assistant.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Assistant reached over to caress the Madame’s hand. He slid from her grasp and started over towards Ladybug and Chat Noir.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ladybug and Chat Noir. It is an <em>honor</em> to meet you. I could wax poetic about how you go about keeping evil at bay and restoring peace, but I’m sure you’ve heard that all before from many others who came before me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“N-no,” Ladybug stuttered. “We, uh, haven’t-“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Still, I think I’d be wasting time with the schedule we’re on so I’ll keep my speech short and sweet: keep doing what you do. Keep on fighting, keeping on inspiring.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Assistant placed a hand in front of him and gave Chat Noir a mid length bow. He then turned towards Ladybug and took her hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Especially <em>you</em> Ladybug.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Assistant raised Ladybug’s hand and gave it a quick kiss. Chat Noir’s eyes widened. The hand by his side clenched into a fist. The ends of his lips quivered as Ladybug blushed and let out a flustered string of words:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s-it’s- an honor to meet <em>you</em> too!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chat Noir’s arms crossed in front of him. He glared at the Assistant who had made his way over back to The Madame. He took out a golden pocketwatch and flipped the top open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Madame, I just wanted to remind you that we’re going to do the inventory check before the gala,” he closed the pocketwatch and put it back in his pocket.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh! Yes, yes. Thank you. Well we’re going in the same direction aren’t we? Why not we all walk over to the office. You two need to know where we keep the security footage and you and I,” The Madame cast a flirty look over at her assistant. “Can get a head start on that inventory while we’re at it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Assistant led the way with the Ladybug and the Madame by his side. Chat Noir lagged behind. He rolled his eyes as the Assistant made yet another witty comment. The Madame and Ladybug laughed. He watched as Ladybug tilted her head up to get a better look at the Assistant. Her pigtails bounced against her shoulders. Her cheeks dimpled as she went to speak, eyes sparkled with wonder, voice flowed out like song, and Chat Noir stopped. For a split second, a heartbroken expression shone on his face before the anger kicked in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s so special about <em>him</em>?” He muttered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A shout got everyone’s attention. Chat Noir rejoined the group as one of the Madame’s staff ran towards them with a tablet in hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Madame! You have to see this! The painting you’re going to show at the gala is in <em>danger</em>!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What on <em>earth</em> are you talking about?” The Madame exclaimed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s The Magpie! He posted this just now!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Everyone crowded around the tablet. A tik-tok video started with the image of a dancing animated magpie dancing to an upbeat song. Above it, the name of the art gallery flashed in bold letters. As the magpie moved its feather up, down, left, and right, white textblocks appeared. Each one contained a sentence from the letter that had been sent to the Madame Curator.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If anyone would like to take a stab at what the painting might look like, be my guest!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Gala: One Hour Before The Heist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><h4>The Cast Of Characters</h4>
<p><strong>Ladybug And Chat Noir:</strong> A pair of plucky Parisian superheroes. May or may not be secretly in love with each other. The two are honored guests and volunteer security for The MADAME CURATOR’S charity gala. They are in possession of the LADYBUG and CHAT NOIR MIRACULOUSES that grant them their POWERS. </p>
<p><strong>The Madame Curator:</strong> The owner of a private art gallery in Paris and our unfortunate VICTIM. She has received a threatening note from THE MAGPIE who has his EYE on the painting THE CROWN PRINCE AND ALL HIS SPOILS that she plans on displaying at her CHARITY GALA. Said painting is a source of PRIDE and JOY for THE MADAME CURATOR and she will do ANYTHING to keep it safe. Like any elegant woman, she carries A PURSE. </p>
<p><strong>The Assistant:</strong> A CHARMING, MYSTERIOUS, and DASTARDLY HANDSOME man who works for the MADAME CURATOR. He is rather fond of his POCKETWATCH.</p>
<p><strong>Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur:</strong> A cold fashion designer and his long suffering assistant with a one sided crush or two supervillains who are hellbent on defeating LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR. Are invited to MADAME CURATOR’S charity gala. Both utilize the BUTTERFLY and PEACOCK MIRACULOUSES to do their bidding. </p>
<p><strong>The Magpie:</strong> Our VILLAIN in this tale. An infamous globe-trotting thief WHO happens to be in Paris. From WHAT we know, he plans on swooping into the charity gala WHERE the prized painting lies in plain sight. WHEN he carries out his heinous crime, the entire gala is sent into a panic, and everyone appears to have a motive. The Magpie could be anyone, WHY it may even be someone on this list, but the true question is HOW does he escape if he escapes at ALL?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A series of arpeggios, dynamic and bold, made their way up the keys of the grand piano with a flourish. The attendees made their way through the gallery at a leisurely pace. All of their outfits were coordinated with the gala’s avian theme: Venetian masks, winged eyeliner, and hats with feathers sticking at the top for the head. Dresses of all lengths and sizes sported feather patterns in the skirt, neckline, sleeves, and collar. Ruffled shirts were paired with blazer jackets and trousers that either displayed images of birds or feathers depending on how daring the wearer was. In front of the Madame Curator’s curtained off painting, Ladybug marveled at the variety of designs before her. With a wrist length gloved hand raised to her chin, she let out a hum as she pondered the meaning behind each color, pattern, and choice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“M’lady?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A gloved hand, black, with a ring placed on the fourth finger, tapped her on the shoulder. Ladybug paused mid thought and turned to her left.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Chat Noir?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The music drifting from the piano softened. Ladybug blinked and felt her gaze sweep over him from head to toe. He had modified his superhero suit to look like a tuxedo. He kept the blazer and trousers the same shade of black, but exchanged the leather for what Ladybug guessed to be silk or satin. His bell took the place of the top button of his white dress shirt that flowed underneath the blazer, and glittered underneath the gallery lights. The tail end of his belt perked up in the air, and Chat Noir gave her a nervous smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Should we change your name to Tuxedo Cat?” Ladybug tried to lighten up the mood.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know, I think black’s more my style. Gives an air of mystery to a handsome guy like me, no?” His smile relaxed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But white could work too,” She pointed to his shirt. “You know art wise, white’s a mix of all the different colors out there and you don’t know which color is the one that makes it what it is. If you look at it that way, and tie it into everyone guessing who you are and how you got your powers, it’s pretty mysterious indeed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chat Noir’s cheeks dimpled. He let out a soft chuckle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Convincing. But I think I’ll stick with black.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, black suits you. You wouldn’t be Chat Noir without it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The song’s tempo picked back up again. Ladybug glanced out at the exhibit, then back over at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You look really nice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A tinge of pink filled Chat Noir’s cheeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you. You look really nice too,” he quickly said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ladybug turned her back towards the gallery to shield the painting from the front. Chat Noir followed her lead by taking his place on her left when he noticed a crowd gathered around another painting nearby. Ladybug’s fingers took hold of the curtain’s edge. They peeked in for a second before she shut the curtain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ready to get going?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ladybug nodded. She straightened the curtain before turning out towards the gallery and following Chat Noir into the crowd.</p>
<p>______________________________________</p>
<p>At the gallery entrance, a commotion had attracted the attention of the attendees that had passed security’s inspection, and those still waiting on the line that stretched out to the bottom of the steps outside. At the front, a beefy looking security guard made a motion at the man he was inspecting to show the inside of his waistcoat pockets.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you take me for, some common <em>criminal</em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The woman accompanying him gave no outward indication whether if she was annoyed or mortified by his behavior. The violet lipstick covering her thin lips did not contort into a scowl, but instead stayed in a flat, neutral position. She squinted over at the two men through the mask covering her eyes, which was the exact same shade as the lipstick she wore.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We do this with everybody. Arms out sir.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not just anybody. I’m <em>Gabriel Agreste</em>! One of the guests of honor who has so <em>generously</em> donated—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>We</em> are,” Nathalie Sancoeur piped up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Me and my plus one yes,” he hastily added. “And as a guest of honor I <em>will</em> complain about your <em>degrading</em> treatment to the head curator <em>myself</em>!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Arms out sir,” the guard replied, unfazed. He made a slight nod of his head to get his colleagues attention.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will <em>no</em>t put my arms out just because some boorish lout with an inflated ego—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was then that Nathalie intervened.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re holding up the line Mr. Agreste.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel looked out from behind his turquoise mask to meet a sea of impatient faces. He let out a frustrated sigh and complied.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Soft piano music greeted Gabriel and Nathalie as they stepped onto the gallery floor. Nathalie’s held tightly onto Gabriel’s arm. She took slow, hesitant steps due to the weight of the petticoat underneath her dress, and the bustle attached to the back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gabriel. There’s something going on,” she whispered in his ear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I <em>know</em>,” he muttered. “What did she hire <em>mercenaries</em> or something to watch over this place? Then again that sort of thing is definitely up her alley. She’s <em>always</em> been the over the top. When we were working in Milan she drove everyone <em>mad</em> when things strayed from her idea of <em>aesthetic serenity </em>or whatever mumbo jumbo <em>those</em> art people spew out. And if you were one the unfortunate ones to get on her <em>good</em> side, god help you—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But has she ever hired this much security?” Nathalie got to the point.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel paused.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No,” he said. “It probably means nothing though.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Mr. Agreste</em>!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel stiffened. He cast a glance out towards the sound and grimaced.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh <em>great. </em>Look who it is<em>.”</em></p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The Madame Curator kept a poised balance and a brisk pace despite the stilettos on her feet. They were hidden from view by the ends of her gown, a shimmering shade of black that popped out against the brighter colors of the costumes around her. The smoky eyeshadow, tight looking headband that supported an oversized feather, the boa on her shoulders, and the long pearl necklace dangling against the v neck line of her dress gave her the appearance of a flapper girl from a hundred years ago. The appearance of the man next to her was a stark contrast. Compared to the Madame’s simplistic choice of makeup, he went all out with contoured cheeks and nose that sharpened against pale foundation, black lipstick, white eyeshadow, and excess eyeliner whose ends curved into wings on the upper eyelids. His outfit didn’t draw from a specific time period, instead taking out elements from the 1920s, 50s, and modern day and combining them in a way that flaunted his features. And gathered quite the attention as awed whispers buzzed around them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah Madame,” Gabriel gave her a curt nod.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel, how long has it been since we’ve seen each other? Oh I know, the shoot for vogue in Milan. Oh what happy memories!” She curved the back of her hand and presented it to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes. I remember Milan very fondly,” Gabriel gritted through his teeth before his lips brushed against the black satin of her glove.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And you two look so <em>dashing</em>! First 19<sup>th</sup> century styled costumes I’ve seen today! <em>Gorgeous</em>! I <em>love</em> the peacock eyes on your tailcoat. It’s the only part of your outfit with a pattern and it makes a <em>great</em> contrast against the blues and greens!” The Madame clapped her hands together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you. My aim was to emulate a peacock’s appearance, hence why the eyes are on the back,” Gabriel said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And you dearie,” The Madame faced Nathalie. “I didn’t quite catch your name, but the purple in your dress is so <em>crisp</em>! Makes me think of sunshine streaming onto a meadow of violets. But the black of your gloves, the streak of purple in your hair right there,” The Madame enthusiastically gestured. “And the placing of feathers on your corset. Very daring, very <em>flashy</em>. I wonder what bird you could be.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m supposed to be a bird of paradise. Nathalie Sancoeur, Gabriel’s personal assistant,” Nathalie introduced herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nathalie broke away from Gabriel. She stepped forward and a sharp pain radiated from her lower back to her thighs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ow!” Her hands shot towards her waist since she couldn’t reach the back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nathalie?” Gabriel reached out to touch her shoulder but Nathalie slipped from his reach.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you alright?” The Madame Curator’s glance went over to Nathalie’s skirts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The dress is a bit heavy but I’ll manage,” Nathalie took a deep breath in and exhaled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hang onto my purse won’t you darling?” The Madame Curator handed off her purse to the man accompanying her and rushed over towards Nathalie’s side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s a trick to wearing these things,” she offered her hand for support. “I gather that it’s not close to the real thing but—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel found himself face to face with the man. Aware of the awkwardness too great of a pause would bring, he forced himself to start the conversation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ve been quiet the whole time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m a nobody really. Just an assistant; like your girl there. The kind of man who stands in the background and makes people look good,” the man answered with a tilt of his head to the side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel was not sure how to respond. The other man quickly filled the silence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah you must be thinking that I lead a miserable life, but in reality the opposite is true. I’m someone who <em>lives</em> to <em>please</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Behind him, the Madame Curator was fussing over Nathalie’s posture. A tut-tut here, dramatic brush there, a step back to demonstrate. To Gabriel’s surprise, Nathalie appeared to being tolerating her. He glanced back and found that the man was standing too close for comfort.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well then that’s good for you I suppose,” Gabriel moved his right foot against the heel of his left and slid back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What made you want to combine clothing from different eras?” He quickly filled the gap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh you mean <em>this</em>?” The man pointed at his suit. “You’re the only person so far who’s caught on. I’m <em>flattered</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m a fashion designer. I’m knowledgeable about these things,” Gabriel answered in an abrupt tone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know,” the man blinked. The diamond pattern on his eyeshadow rippled, similar to a bird ruffling its feathers. “That’s why I hoped you’d be here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nathalie and the Madame Curator rejoined them. Just as the Madame was about to open her mouth, a faint creaking came from the ceiling. She glanced up and groaned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought I told them to fix the pipes!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You sure it’s the pipes? In an old building like this?” The Assistant crept up behind the Madame with a laugh. His gloved hands hovered over her shoulders. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a <em>ghost</em> lurking about!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hands clamped down. The Madame jumped with a squeal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh <em>you</em>!” She laughed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Assistant’s hands wound around the Madame’s hips. His lips pressed against her neck with a loud smack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nathalie’s gaze went to one of the paintings close by. Gabriel however, focused on the subtle unease that shone in the Madame’s eyes before a second oncoming laugh clouded over it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel loudly cleared his throat. The Assistant slunk back. With a smug look, he passed the purse over to the Madame. The Madame stifled one last giggle before facing Gabriel and Nathalie.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean to ask you Madame. I hope you don’t take offense,” Gabriel started. “When I got here, your security did not show me the same hospitality that you so graciously shown Nathalie and I. He threatened to <em>carry</em> me off like a common <em>criminal</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh dear!” The Madame’s hand shot towards her mouth again, then back to the strap of her purse. It tightened around it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I threatened to get you involved Madame, didn’t I Nathalie?” Gabriel glanced over at the Madame, then Nathalie as he spoke.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes,” Nathalie nodded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel followed the way the Madame’s purse swung back and forth. One of her heels screeched against the tiles as she brought her body closer together. He then directly looked into her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course, I thought he was just one of those obnoxious types, but there’s no real reason he’d act like that. <em>Right</em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Madame’s hands clenched over the strap of her purse. They twisted and her eyes widened as she looked over at Gabriel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I-uh—well-<em>hah</em>,” One of her hands slid over the other. She glanced back at the Assistant, then at Gabriel. She blurted out:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll talk to Ladybug and Chat Noir!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Three confused expressions met her gaze.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Ladybug and Chat Noir</em>?” Everyone exclaimed at once.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes! Yes! They’re in charge of security,” she cheerfully said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Weren’t they just advising us Madame?” The Assistant piped up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well yes, but—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Aren’t they also on the guest list? You can’t be forcing them to do more work than they already do,” Gabriel coldly butted in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before the Madame could say anything, Nathalie placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and said:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They could have also requested to do it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel paused and said:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re right. It seems like something they would do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turned back to the Madame.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I won’t take up too much of your time. It was good to see you again,” he said with a curt nod of the head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nice to meet you,” Nathalie told the Madame.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh you too! Enjoy the exhibit!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel offered his arm out to Nathalie again. She took it even though she did not need the support. As they headed off, Nathalie caught a glimpse of The Madame greeting another pair. Her assistant took a quick glimpse at his pocketwatch before following suit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You were right Nathalie,” Gabriel said in a low voice. “There <em>is</em> something going on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you think it will be too risky?” She asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel looked out at the gala before turning towards her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. I think this is the <em>perfect</em> opportunity. The Madame’s emotions are already heightened and Ladybug and Chat Noir are already on the scene, ready to <em>swoop</em> in if danger strikes. They won’t suspect <em>us</em>; they’re looking for someone else. We only need to find out <em>who</em> it is.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nathalie’s eyelashes fluttered against her mask. She nodded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll investigate this end of the gallery.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A concerned expression crossed Gabriel’s face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will you be alright?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be fine,” she said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel conceded with a nod.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let’s meet up in five.”</p>
<p>____________________________________</p>
<p>Snippets of conversation floated past Nathalie’s ear. She paid close attention, hoping that there was a word or phrase that stood out. To her disappointment, but not surprise, <em>these </em>attendees, who certainly were of the same status or higher than the Agrestes only wanted to blabber about gossip, golf, or the stocks. There was nothing about the actual gala; not a comment on the artwork surrounding them, or of the donations they might have made in the name of philanthropy. Without Gabriel and his fame by her side, she knew better than to try and insert herself into their conversations. The only chance she had was to find the guests who were here for the art, but the probability that she’d run into them on this side of the gallery was looking very slim.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A waiter carrying a tray of champagne stopped next her. She picked up a glass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nathalie took a sip and walked over to the next exhibit area. There was a sharp turn by the entrance and Nathalie braced herself to make sure she could enter in one go. Glass in one hand, the other held onto her skirt. She took a step forward.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The champagne swished about and up. Her torso puffed out and it was only the Madame’s helpful advice about keeping a wide stance that prevented her from tumbling down. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw black feathers on the ground.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Agh</em>! Sorry! Sorry!” She apologized to whoever bumped into her from behind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No response. Nathalie sighed and tried to glance behind her shoulder to see how much damage had been done to the bustle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think no one will notice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nathalie sipped some more champagne and moved on.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Gala: Forty Five Minutes Before The Heist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><h4>The Cast Of Characters</h4>
<p><strong>Ladybug And Chat Noir:</strong> A pair of plucky Parisian superheroes. May or may not be secretly in love with each other. The two are honored guests and volunteer security for The MADAME CURATOR’S charity gala. They are in possession of the LADYBUG and CHAT NOIR MIRACULOUSES that grant them their POWERS. <br/><strong>The Madame Curator:</strong> The owner of a private art gallery in Paris and our unfortunate VICTIM. She has received a threatening note from THE MAGPIE who has his EYE on the painting THE CROWN PRINCE AND ALL HIS SPOILS that she plans on displaying at her CHARITY GALA. Said painting is a source of PRIDE and JOY for THE MADAME CURATOR and she will do ANYTHING to keep it safe. Like any elegant woman, she carries A PURSE. <br/><strong>The Assistant:</strong> A CHARMING, MYSTERIOUS, and DASTARDLY HANDSOME man who works for the MADAME CURATOR. He is rather fond of his POCKETWATCH.<br/><strong>Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur: </strong>A cold fashion designer and his long suffering assistant with a one sided crush or two supervillains who are hellbent on defeating LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR. Are invited to MADAME CURATOR’S charity gala. Both utilize the BUTTERFLY and PEACOCK MIRACULOUSES to do their bidding. <br/><strong>Mr. Cunningham:</strong> A guest at THE MADAME CURATOR’S charity gala. He is an esteemed CRIME NOVELIST who delights in CONUNDRUMS and CONFOUNDING others much to everyone’s CONSTERNATION. He carries around A PEN and NOTEPAD wherever he goes. <br/><strong>The Magpie:</strong> Our VILLAIN in this tale. An infamous globe- trotting thief WHO happens to be in Paris. From WHAT we know, he plans on swooping into the charity gala WHERE the prized painting lies in plain sight. WHEN he carries out his heinous crime, the entire gala is sent into a panic, and everyone appears to have a motive. The Magpie could be anyone, WHY it may even be someone on this list, but the true question is HOW does he escape if he escapes at ALL?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Out of the one hundred and sixty guests, one missed the memo about the gala’s masquerade theme. He, sandwiched against the wall, in-between two paintings of an unkindness of ravens dancing around a human skull, and a murder of crows harassing a scarecrow, was also underdressed. His mousy hair was in desperate need of a comb. Two fingers pushed back the center of his glasses towards his eyes before picking up his pen. His gaze darted back and forth from the gala to his pad. He clicked his pen each time he was stumped.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, no, no that’s not it,” he crossed something out. “Now come on brain you mustn’t fail me now. It will be many years before all your cells wither away and leave me a husk of a man who can’t remember Tuesday from Thursday, so do help me choose the right word.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mr. Cunningham?” Came a melodious voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Cunningham lowered the notepad. He tensed up and stuffed the notepad into his blazer pocket. Hands smoothed back his hair, his slouched posture straightened, and he smiled at the Madame.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh- <em>bonjour</em> Madame! No, no, no <em>bonsoir</em>. Wait, is it still light out? Is it night yet?” He wondered out loud.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Bonjour</em> is fine,” The Madame reassured him in English.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then <em>bonjour</em>?” Mr. Cunningham extended his hand, but kept his elbow close to his body.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Madame Curator had to take a few steps forward to shake to his hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you for coming. I have been trying to find you all evening but you have been <em>elusive</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Cunningham tilted his head to gaze at her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I like <em>most</em> parties but here I feel like a <em>fish out of water</em>,” he emphasized the last part in a breathy tone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Madame’s face scrunched up as she pondered over the strange phrase. He stared directly at her, hoping that she would be the first person in the gala to get it right. Then, there was clarity. She lifted her head up and said:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh! I am certain there are people who would like to meet a <em>great</em> writer like you. Let me introduce you to—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s kind but not necessary. I can do that myself,” he declined her offer. “And I think it’s <em>noble</em> of you to help children,” he added on to soften the blow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was an awkward pause. The Madame’s gaze went to the painting of the ravens for a second before responding in an enthusiastic tone:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, the donations! I am<em> passionate</em> about <em>ensuring</em> art is available to <em>everyone</em>, everyone yes, and that the <em>future</em> of art can be <em>passed on</em> for generations to come and giving the money to art curriculums are the best way to do so.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You speak English very well,” he was impressed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh thank you!” The Madame answered with a chuckle. “I studied English in London when I was younger.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I live in London,” he said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“London is a <em>beautiful</em> city!” The Madame exclaimed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah yes. London is beautiful when it doesn’t rain, and it rains almost everyday,” he replied in a nonchalant tone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Madame Curator gave him a blank look.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It means I don’t like living in London,” he explained.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh!” She sounded surprised.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Cunningham’s attention had gone to a nearby group standing a few meters away. A waiter offered them some hors d’oeuvres. Each person took a plate from the tray except for two individuals: a man in blue with an unusually stiff posture and a woman in purple who leaned in to whisper in his ear. He listened and nodded. She took his arm and they walked off together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you mind if I accompany you to the main exhibit? I would like to know more about your writing,” The Madame’s voice floated by his ear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Cunningham glanced at her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh certainly! Do you mind if you walk behind me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Behind</em> you?” The Madame was confused.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t like showing my back to people. It makes me an easy target if someone tries to attack me and I don’t think people will take kindly to me sliding against the walls and covering up the paintings.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Madame’s finger tapped against the strap of her purse. Her gaze shifted towards the side and her smile was stretched tight as she went to give him a yes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the plaque, Mr. Cunningham stopped and scanned about the main exhibit. He took a step back to stand by the Madame side. Her cheeks were a rosy shade of pink. She smoothed out the skirt of her dress and laced her fingers together. She raised her head and gave him a demure smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We should be fine, there’s a security guard in the corner.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Oui</em>,” The Madame Curator lapsed back into French. “Sorry, <em>yes</em>. He is here to watch the paintings closely,” she said in English.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve seen lots of them around here. It’s good to have them around. In an art gallery like this you’ll never know if someone might steal something.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The wheels were turning in Mr. Cunningham’s head. He reached into his blazer pocket and flipped his notepad open. He clicked his pen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That gives me a <em>brilliant</em> idea! In an art gallery, just like this one, a painting is <em>stolen</em>. By who, I don’t know, but it is only the <em>beginning</em>. Just when people realize that the painting is, something <em>dreadful</em> happens that they didn’t see coming! Something so <em>horrid</em>, that it leaves both the characters and readers in a state of <em>shock</em> and <em>reeling</em> for the entire book. A <em>murder</em>! A <em>murder</em> in the <em>art gallery</em>!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Madame froze. Her purse swung like a pendulum from side to side. Behind her, the man in blue and the woman in purple parted ways. His hand lingered on her the crook of her waist. Lips grazed against the edge of her ear with a hint of a breath or sound. The woman blinked. The swoon in her eyes froze into a determined, stoic gaze. His hand recoiled. Fingers curled. She turned and headed off. With one last glance at the page and over at the couple, Mr. Cunningham shut his notepad and stuffed it back inside his blazer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When this gets published I’ll make sure to thank you!” He told the Madame.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was at that moment that Mr. Cunningham realized that the Madame was not looking at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You wanted to show me some paintings?” He asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes,” she was flustered. “There is a painting that I painted that I will show later.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t know you painted too!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is the first time I am showing my paintings,” The Madame was a little more at ease. “I am <em>excited</em> to show this painting! I, how do you say it, wanted to show emotion, but in a <em>comical</em> way because my painting has, I don’t know the word in English. They are little black and white birds that like bright things.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Cunningham’s eyes widened with enthusiasm. He raised his pointer finger up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah! You are talking about <em>magpies</em>!” He exclaimed. “Jaunty little fellows aren’t they? Snatching up every glittering thing in sight that catches their eye? Though where I come from you don’t want to run into a <em>lone</em> magpie ‘cause you’ll have the most <em>terrible </em>luck. And hop down under to Australia and magpies are a parliament of <em>murderbeasts</em>. Did you know they get so <em>feisty</em> during their mating season they attack everything in <em>sight</em>? People have to wear helmets when they go outside for fear of getting their <em>eyeballs</em> gouged out!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A repulsed look passed over the Madame’s face. She then looked over Mr. Cunningham’s outfit and said through an uncomfortable smile:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mr. Cunningham! You are not dressed for the occasion. How about I get you a mask so you <em>fit in</em>?”</p>
<p>__________________________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>It wasn’t that Chat Noir expected to be the center of attention, but having attended multiple functions like these as his normal and superhero self meant that his presence attracted fans and curious onlookers left and right. Tonight however, no one was giving him the time of the day. Every single person he encountered slipped away even before he could open his mouth. They followed the seductive croon of Madame’s Assistant. Gathered around him with eager ears to listen to his tales. Eyes glued to his animated gestures, charming smile, and how his eyes sparkled underneath the gallery lights.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So the captain’s drunk, first mate’s piled up underneath the blankets, we’ve got this little old lady praying to all the angels and saints to save her life, and I’m running about the deck screaming <em>we’re going under</em>! <em>We’re going under</em>!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Raucous laughter hit the air. The Assistant leaned towards him with a gloat as he relished in the sound. Chat Noir crossed his arms and pouted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Hmph</em>! It’s not even that funny,” he said under his breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Chat Noir had not kept his gaze directed at the Assistant, he would have spotted the one person in the group who didn’t laugh. He stood on the Assistant’s right hand side, fiddling with a brown papier mache mask. The Assistant faced him and opened his mouth to say something.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I appreciate you wanting to give me a translation, but I am perfectly fine to decipher the French for myself,” the man cut him off in English.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As you wish my friend,” The Assistant’s English did not have an obvious accent. He faced the others.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That reminds me of a joke,” the man piped up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Assistant placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and nudged him forward. Chat Noir’s eyes then caught how the man raised his hand and crossed it over to where the Assistant’s hand had touched him on the shoulder. But before he could do anything, the Assistant spoke:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Everybody! Our guest from across The Channel has a joke to share. Please have the heart to hear him out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man cleared his throat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you call a <em>funeral ship</em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was met with blank gazes from the French speakers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know, <em>what</em>?” The Assistant interjected.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man grinned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A <em>sea hearse</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chat’s Noir’s spirits lifted at the pun. A hint of a smile crept up his cheeks and the air tumbling about his throat was poised to come out as a chuckle. Then in an instant, The Assistant broke his good mood into a billion pieces by letting out an over exaggerated laugh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s <em>hilarious</em>! Bravo! <em>Bravo</em>!” The Assistant clapped his hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The rest of the group clapped along with him. Chat Noir <em>glared</em> at him with upmost loathing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t even <em>get</em> how good that pun was!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nobody heard him. The Assistant’s voice rose into a shout.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let’s see there’s one, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” he counted. “You!” He flagged down a waiter. “Another round for my friends here! Even if it’s free it’s all on <em>me</em> ladies and gentlemen!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The group cheered. They moved over to the waiter to grab some champagne. The British man fumbled with his glass and mask as he pulled out a stick shaped instrument from his blazer pocket. He stuck it into his glass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh don’t mind me. I always test my drinks for poison. Never know how many enemies you end up with over the years,” he cheerfully said to the person next to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Assistant took a sip of champagne, then glanced over at Chat Noir. He raised his glass over to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well look at what <em>the cat dragged in</em>!” He said in a loud voice. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you some of this <em>fantastic</em> champagne even if I wanted to. Growing little kitties like yourself have to drink their <em>milk</em> to get strong no?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The group began to laugh <em>at</em> Chat Noir.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The anger <em>boiled</em>. <em>Twisted</em> inside. <em>Burned</em> his ears. <em>Flashed</em> before his eyes. His claws dug into his palms. He spun around to face the Assistant.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s the matter? Can’t you take a joke? Look at you so <em>grum-py</em>!” The Assistant’s voice took on a tone as if he were talking to a baby. “Did someone <em>steal </em>one your <em>nine lives</em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was only then that the British man laughed at the Assistant’s comments.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s a good one!” He complimented the pun.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chat Noir’s teeth sunk down on his lower lip. His heart beat fast, the anger surged up from his gut, up his throat, ready to come out as snarl---</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Ladybug</em> was nearby.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A jittery calm passed over Chat Noir. A painful <em>thud</em> threatened to burst through his chest as he watched the Assistant spot her too:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah! Why isn’t it the <em>Lady</em> of the hour? What <em>miraculous</em> timing!” The Assistant spoke in grandiose tone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The bun at the top of Ladybug’s head bobbed as she approached him. The Assistant handed over his glass of champagne to the person on his left. He brushed off imaginary dust on his gloves and extended a hand out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello,” Ladybug leaned in to initiate the <em>faire la bise</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a mundane greeting; one that nearly everybody in France did at some point as they went about their day but Chat Noir’s thoughts went to how Ladybug had been so in awe of the Assistant when she met him. How delicate her pose was right now as she placed a hand on his shoulder. How her gaze lingered before leaning in. The way she tilted her head at a narrow angle, lips puckered dangerously close to the sharp curve of the Assistant’s cheek. And it didn’t make Chat Noir feel angry. Instead he felt completely <em>helpless</em> to make any move to distract or stop them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t happen to know a fellow I don’t know personally but heard a lot about named <em>Andrew</em> do you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chat Noir internally thanked the British man for doing what he could not. Ladybug and The Assistant stepped away from each other. The onlookers turned in the man’s direction with bewildered expressions and murmurs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Excuse me</em>?” The Assistant asked. It was the first time Chat Noir had seen the Assistant trip up. He wanted to let out a snort.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, you just now reminded me of this Andrew. He’s well traveled like yourself though it’s said that he is rather fond of <em>New York</em> and <em>The Caribbean</em>, and he prefers <em>planes</em> rather than <em>boats</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chat Noir hung onto the man’s bizarre words, hoping that somewhere along the line the Assistant would falter, crumble, and humiliate himself in front of everybody. To his disappointment, The Assistant was quick on his feet:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve met <em>Andres’</em> and <em>André’s</em> but never an <em>Andrew</em> Mr. Cunningham.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Cunningham laughed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just as I thought. You’re good! You’re alright!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And the Assistant did not miss a beat as he positioned himself so that everyone could see him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ladybug!” He continued on as if nothing happened. “I was in the middle of telling these fine folks here an adventure of mine, but I think that in front of this marvelous superhero here, that my story will fall short compared to what she has to tell.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Ladybug could open her mouth, Chat Noir roll his eyes, or for the others to plead for the Assistant to keep on entertaining them, he took out his pocketwatch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ladybug. I challenge you to a spinning contest!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He held onto the chain as he threw his watch up in the air. Its golden surface glinted as it came back down. It circled around his hand, hovering over the fingers before catching it. He glanced down at the watch then up at Ladybug.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ladybug slid forward. The skirt of her dress poofed out, making it look like the black spots on the fabric shook as she pulled out her yo-yo. It hit the air with a zing. She flawlessly copied each of the Assistant’s movements before letting the yo-yo sink back into the palm of her hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re on!” She exclaimed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ladybug and the Assistant circled each other like two fighters ready to charge at each other. Up went the yo-yo and watch. And bolting they came down. Swung. Dangled. Spun on fingertips. Tossed. Turned. Crossed over wrists. Slipped. Yo-yoed in the traditional way. And as the movements became more complicated, the more onlookers came rushing onto the scene. There came laughs, subdued shouts, a clap or two, and even a wolf whistle as the Assistant waved his pocket watch over his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Left!” He slid in the direction. Then swerved so that he wouldn’t hit his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right!” The watch dangled just before his face. The chain wound about his second and middle finger.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And <em>drop</em> it!” Fingers spread out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let’s top this off!” His watched bounced back up instantly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The crowd jumped back as the last set of tricks came flying their way. Palms out, the Assistant and Ladybug let their watch and yo-yo roll over their gloves before finishing by making a fist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cheers filled the middle of the gallery. The Assistant lifted his head. Eyes alight and grinning ear to ear, he stepped forward and bowed towards every direction the applause came from. He glanced down at his pocketwatch one last time before placing it back in his pocket. He extended a hand out towards Ladybug in a manner much like an actor would present the main star during a curtain call.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ladies and gentlemen a round of applause for <em>Ladybug</em>!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At the very back of the crowd, no one noticed that Chat Noir had departed. His tail dragged behind him, eyes fixed on the tiles in front of his feet. Just as he bit his lip to stifle tears, a shout, or anything unpleasant from surfacing, someone’s foot treaded on his tail. He lurched forward and collided with someone else. Black feathers flew everywhere. Chat Noir slipped and fell onto his back. He sat up without a sound. Not even bothering to brush off the feathers, he stared dejectedly at the floor:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s so <em>special</em> about him?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Gala: A Half Hour Before The Heist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><strong>Ladybug And Chat Noir:</strong> A pair of plucky Parisian superheroes. May or may not be secretly in love with each other. The two are honored guests and volunteer security for The MADAME CURATOR’S charity gala. They are in possession of the LADYBUG and CHAT NOIR MIRACULOUSES that grant them their POWERS.<br/><strong>The Madame Curator:</strong> The owner of a private art gallery in Paris and our unfortunate VICTIM. She has received a threatening note from THE MAGPIE who has his EYE on the painting THE CROWN PRINCE AND ALL HIS SPOILS that she plans on displaying at her CHARITY GALA. Said painting is a source of PRIDE and JOY for THE MADAME CURATOR and she will do ANYTHING to keep it safe. Like any elegant woman, she carries A PURSE.<br/><strong>The Assistant:</strong> A CHARMING, MYSTERIOUS, and DASTARDLY HANDSOME man who works for the MADAME CURATOR. He is rather fond of his POCKETWATCH.<br/><strong>Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur:</strong> A cold fashion designer and his long suffering assistant with a one sided crush or two supervillains who are hellbent on defeating LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR. Are invited to MADAME CURATOR’S charity gala. Both utilize the BUTTERFLY and PEACOCK MIRACULOUSES to do their bidding.<br/><strong>Mr. Cunningham:</strong> A guest at THE MADAME CURATOR’S charity gala. He is an esteemed CRIME NOVELIST who delights in CONUNDRUMS and CONFOUNDING others much to everyone’s CONSTERNATION. He carries around A PEN and NOTEPAD wherever he goes.<br/><strong>The Magpie:</strong> Our VILLAIN in this tale. An infamous globe- trotting thief WHO happens to be in Paris. From WHAT we know, he plans on swooping into the charity gala WHERE the prized painting lies in plain sight. WHEN he carries out his heinous crime, the entire gala is sent into a panic, and everyone appears to have a motive. The Magpie could be anyone, WHY it may even be someone on this list, but the true question is HOW does he escape if he escapes at ALL?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gabriel had to change tactics <em>fast</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he had to listen to one more second of incessant, vapid prattling from these <em>imbeciles</em>, whose money couldn’t even get them the right fashion consultants to fix their <em>garish</em> outfits, identity be damned, he <em>would</em> transform into Hawkmoth and ensure that whatever action he took would silence them for <em>good</em>. His hand clenched over his waistcoat, over the exact spot he hid the butterfly miraculous in the inside pocket. Eyes darted over to the exits. And saw Nathalie’s back facing what he assumed to be someone leaning against the wall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel pretended to straighten the lapels of his jacket. With a curious gaze, he raised his head to get a better view. He couldn’t make out much except for how her head bobbed forward and the occasional shift of the hips to get into a comfortable stance. Still, it was fascinating to watch her movements. They were graceful and poised despite of or even because the dress’ design. The corner of his mouth turned upward. The other began to follow suit…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The butterfly miraculous <em>vibrated</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A wisp of negative energy filled him. His hand gripped over his chest. The energy surged. Desperation, fear, and anxiety all jumbled like butterflies. Beads of sweat prickled by his temples. His hand shook. The energy’s hold was so <em>powerful</em> that he thought he was going to be <em>sick</em>. And just as Gabriel raised his head to see where it came from, the energy grew fainter and floated away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hand loosened. It fell to his side then clenched into a fist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Damn it</em>,” he cursed under his breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>To prevent drawing unwanted attention, Gabriel took off in a brisk pace. He passed the plaque that marked the main exhibit and headed inside.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The main exhibit took up the approximate amount of space and had the same dimensions as the other wings in the gallery, but thanks to the Madame’s keen eye, the staging of the artworks made the exhibit appear to be larger than it was. It was also quieter, which made it easier for Gabriel’s emotions to cool down to a state slightly below freezing. He placed his hands behind his back and started about the exhibit clockwise. Colors, styles, and shapes enticed him to stop and contemplate them, but Gabriel’s eyes were locked straight ahead, and did not waver except for an occasional glance at the two to three people admiring the art. Then just as he crossed towards the far end, Gabriel felt something soft and velvety brush against his sleeves. He turned to find himself face to face with a curtain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The outline of a hard, square shaped frame could be seen through the bulges in the middle of the curtain. His eyelashes curled against the curve of his mask, making his gaze come out as squint. The hands behind his back loosened. Gabriel stepped forward and raised his right hand. It moved in, fingers extended out to pull back the curtain…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mr. Agreste!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel turned and placed his hands behind his back again. The Madame’s Assistant gave him an annoyingly huge grin, the kind that made Gabriel think of a cat after it swallowed a canary.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t think I’d catch you alone,” The Assistant’s tone suggested that he figured that he’d run into Gabriel at some point.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel sent him a stern gaze. The Assistant was not intimidated. His foot slid out and tapped against the point of Gabriel’s shoe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mr. Agreste, as one art enthusiast to the other, I must say that I truly <em>admire</em> your work,” the Assistant looked him right in the eye.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, thank you,” Gabriel replied with a curt nod.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel moved. This time, the Assistant ambushed him from the side, close to the curtained off painting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So many dismiss fashion as a serious art, but I think it’s the closest thing we have a society to <em>worshiping</em> the human body. It is a canvas with <em>limitless</em> opportunities. And your fabrics, in colors of all shades and tones, the paint that wraps around, drapes and <em>accentuates</em> each curve. Its what makes your designs so <em>eye catching</em>. You aim for an <em>elegance</em> and <em>balance</em> that hasn’t been seen in decades, and you turn it into something<em> fresh </em>and<em> youthful </em>for everyone to enjoy. You’re also not <em>afraid</em> to give in to what critics say. You hold your ground with your belief that fashion is supposed to be <em>beautiful</em> and I find that to be a <em>refreshing</em> change compared to the experimental rubbish I see coming out of the fashion world.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel did not expect praise. He turned towards the Assistant, racking his head to find a way to acknowledge the compliment along with a way to politely inform him to leave him alone. But before he found the right phrase, the Assistant’s voice grew low.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And it’s an <em>outlet</em> as well.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Without warning, the Assistant told hold of the crook of Gabriel’s arm. He shot him a cheeky grin and playfully slid in so that his foot now was positioned in between Gabriel’s feet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Completely bewildered that a stranger would dare get so close to him, Gabriel froze. The Assistant’s voice floated on his ear, sugary and as thick as honey.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All artists insert a piece of themselves into their work whether they <em>realize</em> it or not. Past <em>experiences</em>, present <em>emotions</em>, deepest <em>desires</em>, and darkest <em>dreams</em>. Whenever I’ve seen your art and now that I’m here with <em>you</em>, I wonder what else has gone into those designs. Past that elegance and balance I’ve also sensed a <em>longing</em> hidden in the folds. And it’s so <em>similar</em> to the longing that I find in my own work. A longing for <em>something</em> I lack in life and cannot <em>grasp</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What on <em>earth</em> are you talking about?” Gabriel felt his composure slipping.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Assistant rubbed his thumb against the crook of Gabriel’s arm. He leaned in to whisper in a breathy voice:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A lack of <em>fulfillment</em>. I get <em>bored</em> very easily. Even if I’m the <em>life of the party</em>, I’m not <em>satisfied </em>by just <em>any</em> old attention<em>. </em>And you, you look like you’re also <em>bored</em> out of your mind. So why not we stop talking, <em>slip</em> out, and find <em>excitement</em> elsewhere.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gabriel’s eyes widened. His left arm tensed as if to ready into a shove, but he then noticed that the Assistant’s grip on his right arm was rather weak. He stepped back with a glare.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m a <em>married</em> man,” he shut down the Assistant in a cold tone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Assistant’s expression did not falter. He let out a throaty chuckle and shrugged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Pity</em>. I’ll find someone else who <em>isn’t</em> taken then,” he replied.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Gabriel could respond, the Assistant dusted off his gloves. He winked, and took off towards the outer part of the gallery.</p>
<p>_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>Ladybug’s steps became light and bouncy as the waltz from the grand piano reached her ears. She hummed along; still in a state of disbelief that she was attending a <em>real</em> ball and a waltz was playing! It was so <em>romantic</em>, a scene from a fairytale or one of those love stories set long ago. She wished Adrien were here. It would be a dream come true if he appeared, dressed in a fine costume and sweep her off her feet by extending a hand to lead her into a dance. And to the tempo of this song, underneath the lights gentle glow, lost in each other’s eyes, he’d confess his love for her and they would kiss without a care in the world, but unfortunately Ladybug found out from Nathalie Sancoeur that Adrien could not attend the gala due to homework.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A passing figure jumped in front of Ladybug’s view and she came to a halt. With an apologetic<em> sorry</em> and a wave of her hand, she continued on. As the fantasy of dancing with Adrien faded, a new thought popped in her head. If Chat Noir were here beside her, he definitely would ask her to dance. He’d use a suave voice and try to persuade her by pointing out how romantic the gala was. Of course she’d refuse by saying they had a job to do, and they’d go back and forth until some emergency arose. However, she had not seen Chat Noir for a while. He had been acting rather weirdly ever since the gala started and she wondered what was going on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The waltz transitioned into a new movement and all thoughts of Chat Noir vanished. Ladybug’s skirts swooshed in a circle like motion. Her arms swung. She slid and collided into another person.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry! Sorry!” She brushed off some feathers that flew her way and lifted her hand into a wave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A white glove reached out and took her hand from underneath. Ladybug swayed out to the side. A nimble foot slid in. She was reeled back in and the other hand shot out and hovered over her waist. Ladybug’s eyes came face to face with the top of a mask. Just as her gaze shifted down, the other person’s foot moved forward. She was dragged along.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>One, two, three. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Right, back, left, right. Feathers fell from a silk sleeve. Ladybug looked to see a black beak protruding from the mask. It was made of a delicate material and fit right over the nose. The rest of the mask covered the eyes, forehead, and cheeks, leaving the mouth and chin exposed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>One, two three. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They turned. The dancer’s heels lifted into the air. An arm raised overhead and curved. Ladybug’s body stooped. Her skirts flared out. She caught a glimpse of obsidian lenses covering the mask’s eyes, wavy hair nested behind the ear, a dim yellowish light, and figures passing by before coming to a stop.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The dancer’s hand gave a slight squeeze and pulled. The chin rose, and Ladybug met a beady stare.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um—“ Ladybug said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The hand on hers curled. There came a breath. The dancer’s lips trembled, steadied, and widened to ease of flow of sound into the air.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A sudden crackling noise sent the dancer back. One hand extended forward as if to reach out again for Ladybug, the other hovered by the side of the head. Then posture straightened, a smile twitched up to the end of the mask, and the dancer’s arms moved to the side. They swung, the feet followed with some complicated steps, and the dancer took off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wait!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Ladybug glanced out at the crowd, she wondered why the stranger’s dance was so familiar. She felt like she had seen it before, but didn’t know <em>where</em>. Just as she began to rack her head, someone called her name. All thoughts of the dance and the stranger were pushed to the back of her mind. She smiled, waved, and began to talk to another partygoer.</p>
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